


#thot

by YoungDumbandFullofHeadcanons



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A WHOLE LOT OF PINING, Aged Up, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Group chat, Henry is in gay denial, Henry is less racist, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Millennials, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Nudes, Online Predators, Oral Sex, Other kinks, Patrick is there too i guess, Pining, Sex Work, Sexting, Slurs, Smoking, Snapchat, Spanking, Texting, They're like sixteen, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Vic is an Insta thot, Vines, he's still an asshole tho, highschool, instagram au, is this fandom dead yet?, it's really not that serious, maybe there is a demon clown, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungDumbandFullofHeadcanons/pseuds/YoungDumbandFullofHeadcanons
Summary: No one:Absolutely nobody:Not a single soul:Me: How bout an AU where Vic sells nudes online to get Henry’s attention.





	1. birds flying high

### Chapter One: birds flying high

Henry likes to play with his hair while Vic sucks him off. Sometimes he’s typically aggressive, yanking his blond locks as he thrusts into his throat, until Vic is gagging and coughing around his cock. But other times Henry’s nicer, stroking his bangs back and tugging playfully, and then rubbing a thumb over Vic’s cheek and the piercings along his ears. 

And Vic lies pliant and willing for either treatment, trying to open his throat and breathe when he can, but he prefers the softer stuff. It’s almost gentle, unpracticed and rare, but it makes Vic’s chest ache with want.

Then Henry will thrust up and shake with pleasure, cumming in Vic’s mouth or across his face, and it’s over. Henry will usually tug his hair until Vic pulls off, limp dick popping out of his mouth and the taste of cum on his tongue.

“Get off me faggot,” Henry says, still panting with the force of his orgasm.

The blond rolls away, lying beside him on the bed and wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. His own dick is painfully hard in his jeans and he grinds his palm against it. Looking over at Henry, it doesn’t seem like he’s is interested in getting Vic off and is still riding out his own pleasure. 

So the smaller teen unbuttons his own pants and starts jerking his dick, just quickly trying to find some relief. His hips twitch restlessly as he masturbates, unsatisfied with the feel of his own hand after getting so worked up while sucking Henry off. Occasionally Henry will let him grind on his thigh or in his lap after a blowjob, even groping Vic’s inner thighs and ass when he needs it most.

And then usually he pushes Vic away right after that anyway, but Vic takes what he can get.

When he’s alone, the blond usually gets off by fingering himself and grinding against his bedspread, biting his pillow to not make any noise as he rubs his prostate. If he were to try that right now though, Henry would probably kick him off the bed entirely, telling him to _“quit that gay shit.”_

The first time Vic gave Henry a blowjob was when they were twelve, young but not very innocent and hanging out in Vic’s bedroom after school. Their hormones were raging and it seemed like everyone in sixth grade was talking about sex, so it just kind of happened. Now they’re sixteen and Vic sucks Henry’s dick at least once a week, or whenever they’re alone at one of their houses or even in a school bathroom or closet.

Fist moving quickly around his dick, Vic arches up into the friction even if it’s not quite enough. He bites his lip, thighs clenching as his orgasm builds in his gut.

Then the bed shifts as Henry turns toward him. Their eyes meet and Vic expects some kind of judgement. His best friend has called him a queer and a faggot hundreds of times, and even a slut more than once, but now he doesn’t say anything. Henry just watches him jerk off, soft dick still exposed as his gaze crawls over Vic’s body, eyes dark and breathe heavily. When Vic arches his back, chasing his own release eagerly, he sees the other teen’s dick twitches like he’s getting hard again.

And that’s really all it takes for Vic to cum hard and embarrassingly quickly. His vision fuzzes over as shivers of pleasure crawled up his spine, and his minds slows down to a dull roar.

Then it’s over to quickly, leaving Vic feel sluggish but not satisfied and tacky cum all over his palm. But he looks over and Henry is still watching him, a hint of blush across his cheeks as their eyes meet again. Something about it makes Vic self-conscious, and yet he wants to show Henry more at the same time. He wants to spread his legs and let Henry see him, wants Henry to touch him. He wants _more_ than just sucking his dick when they’re bored. 

Henry won’t kiss him after Vic sucks his dick. He outright _refuses _every time, no matter how good Vic makes it or how sweetly he asks.

And frankly, Vic thinks it’s rude.

They’ve kissed a few times before, but always when they were drunk or high or both, and Vic has hazy memories of it being wet and hot and intense. Another time when they hotboxed Belch’s basement, Patrick shoved his tongue in Vic’s mouth while the other teen was too high to care who was kissing him. And then Henry punched Patrick in the kidney and that started a fight between the two.

But regardless, Vic thinks he deserves some kind of affection when he gives Henry a blowjob whenever he wants. 

“I’m out of here,” Henry says abruptly, putting his cock away as he gets up off the bed.

“Huh?” Vic wipes his hand of on his blankets and sits up as Henry grabs his backpack from the floor.

“Got’ta get home soon,” Henry mumbles vaguely, trying not to make eye contact with the other teenager.

“’Kay,” Vic says softly, watching Henry move stiff and uncomfortably towards the door. “Text me, okay?”

Henry shrugs in a noncommittal way and leaves, hopefully not being seen by any of Vic’s older sisters. His parents aren’t home right now, and rarely are anyway, but his sister’s don’t need to know he’s a slut for Henry Bowers. Though they probably think so already, if they hear the rumors spreading around school.

And yes, Vic is definitely a slut for Henry Bower’s dick. He’s also stupidly, hopelessly in love with him.

So after Henry leaves Vic huffs in frustration. He berates himself silently for being dumb enough to think his friend would want him for anything more than easy blowjobs.

_“You’re lucky you’re pretty,”_ Henry had told him once when Vic was being spacey, and the blond was embarrassed about how giddy the backhanded compliment made him. And he’s not stupid, he’s usually the one who argues for reason when his friends want to do something impulsive, but sometimes being around Henry makes him a ditsy dumb blond.

He pouts for a little while, considering working on his homework but deciding to scroll through his Instagram instead. His feed is pretty boring today, a mix of indie musician accounts and people he knows from school, along with some fitness accounts that he follows to look at sweaty, half-naked men.

On his Snapchat story Patrick is lighting something on fire, and has sent Vic a private snap that he refuses to look at. He’s learned not to trust Patrick with Snapchat. Belch is working on his car as he often does, and anyone else he follows isn’t interesting enough to watch their stories.

Vic personally likes to post aesthetically pleasing minimalist photos on his Insta, usually in black and white or with a obnoxiously artsy filter. Also he reposts a lot of ironically edgy memes and updates about how much it fucking burns to bleach his hair once a month. His Snapchats are usually videos of people from school embarrassing themselves or getting hurt, along with starting drama when he’s bored, and making occasional vine references.

He has countless videos of him and Belch passing “Road Work Ahead” signs and screaming “YEAH, I SURE HOPE IT DOES,” and then in the background Henry will tell them to shut up.

Henry doesn’t post much on social media, probably cause his phone is shit and the screen is cracked. But when he does it’s some stereotypical fuck-boy stuff, drinking, smoking weed, and the holes he’s punched in his bedroom walls.

_God damn, _Vic wonders why he loves him, and then he sees the rare picture of Henry with no sleeves and that stupid smirk on his face.

His phone buzzes and a message from Henry appears at the top of his screen.

**thanks **

His text thread with Henry is usually something about trouble they’ve gotten in at school, or which one of the Losers need to be beaten up, or Henry telling him that he’s coming over in the middle of the night. But this one is as cryptic as it is short.

**for??**

Vic resists the urge to insert some emoji’s, mostly because Henry says he texts like a girl. Vic would love to know if any girl has ever texted Henry, but whatever.

The typing dots appear and disappearing for a while, like Henry is texting and deleting several times.

**nvrmind. ditch 3rd prd with me tmw **

He really should go to his math class tomorrow, because Vic has ditched it twice already this week, but he really can’t say no to Henry.

**K😜**

**yr a fucking dork**

Vic smiles to himself, knowing Henry is mostly pretending to be annoyed, and then pushes his luck by sending another emoji.

🍆

A few minutes pass and Henry doesn’t respond, but Vic knew he wouldn’t. For once he texted Vic when he got home, it’s the least he can do for getting a blowjob.

_Wait,_ Vic thinks to himself. _Did Henry just thank me for sucking his dick?_

No, of course not. Henry doesn’t thank him for anything, at least not out loud. And he definitely doesn’t acknowledge what they do when they’re alone. Henry is a firm believer in _blowjobs don’t count_ and that he is absolutely 100% straight. Vic doesn’t ask whether giving blowjobs made him gay.

But he remembers the way Henry looked at him, with that pink flush on his face, and the way he left so abruptly.

Vic feels and uncomfortable ache in his chest, but it’s also warm and tingly and he kind of loves it.

_Don’t kid yourself, _the insecure voice in his head says, but that still doesn’t make him less giddy.

The phone screen goes dark and Vic is met with his own reflection. His skin is clearer than usual because he’s been using his sister’s Lush face scrub in the shower, and his hair is tousled but not too messy after Henry pawed through it.

He opens his camera and poses for a couple selfies, trying to look like he doesn’t care and looks good at the same time. The lighting in his room is terrible right now, but he’s able to catch some gleam on his cheekbones and puff out his lips a little bit, and then he moves to a different angle.

A dozen pictures later he swipes through the images idly and deletes the ones that look like garbage. The best one reminds him of the selfies his sisters take, with pouting lips and wide doe eyes. Thankfully his dark roots aren’t showing through the blond. The light makes his skin glow and his eyelashes seem extra-long, and he looks more feminine than he is usually comfortable with.

Vic knows he’s not the most masculine teenage boy in the world, with a softer jawline and slimmer frame. And when he gains weight it usually settles in his hips, making his ass and thighs look thicker. But he doesn’t want to look overtly girly, despite the products he uses for his skin and hair, and he’s usually very critical of his appearance.

Even if Henry likes it when Vic is a little curvier (though he doesn’t say so, but Vic can tell), the blond knows that his best friend wouldn’t hang out with him if he looked or acted too feminine. Too many people already think Vic’s a fag, so he doesn’t want to advertise it.

In this picture though, even he can admit that he looks good. _Pretty, _he thinks, though he wouldn’t admit it. He considers sending it to Henry with the tag _feeling cute, might suck your dick later…_ But he doesn’t. Henry probably wouldn’t get it.

But impulsively he does post it on his Instagram, forgoing one of his usual filters so it doesn’t wash out his complexion. And just because he’s feeling dumb and wants a _certain someone_ to notice how cute he looks, he adds a description

**🌙 🌠 l o n e l y 🌠 🌙**

When the post finally loads to his feed insecurity starts creeping in again, but instead of deleting it he closes the app and starts his homework.

Henry lays across his bed in the dark, not caring to turn on his light even though it’s not that late. He could hear the door slam when his father got home, and waited in tense silence to hear him start yelling. Something’s always wrong, whether it’s the house not being clean enough or trouble Henry’s gotten into at school. And then sometimes his dad just yells at him for no reason at all.

But today he just hears heavy footsteps to the kitchen, the fridge opening, and then the television turning on. Henry tries to relax, taking a few deep breaths but he can’t shake the anxiety crawling under his skin. So he lights up a cigarette and smokes it down to the filter in just a few puffs. He lets the ashes fall to the floor and pulls out another cig, grabbing his phone as well to distract himself.

He opens Instagram and thumbs lazily through his feed, finding most of it stupid and regretting letting his friends set up his profile. And then he scrolls down and sees Vic’s post.

His cigarette falls from his fingers and singes a black mark into his mattress. Startled by the smell of burnt fabric he quickly pats out the spark, knowing he’d get his ass beat if he started a fire in his bedroom. And then he looks back at the selfie Vic posted and forgets about everything else.

Something about it is just _so... _Henry can’t really think of what it is, or why it makes his chest flutter and his mouth dry. It’s pretty, Vic is undeniably too pretty for a guy. But it’s not just that, because plenty of girls are pretty, but he never feels like this around a girl. Something about those lips, lightly bruised from earlier, and as much as Henry wants to see them stretch around his cock and get covered in cum and drool, he also just wants to kiss him.

Henry wants to kiss Vic and see those dark eyes shine so brightly, the way they do when he’s so sincerely happy.

_Faggot, _a cruel voice in his head says. _Disgusting fucking faggot_.

He doesn’t tap the little heart in the corner of the screen. The picture already has a bunch of likes but Henry can’t bring himself to do it, knowing that other people will see. As if everybody will _know _just because he liked Vic’s picture.

But he doesn’t want to scroll away either, so he takes a screenshot of it and then closes the app. Now he’ll at least have the selfie stored in his images, even if he gets that punishing ache of self-hatred in his head.

_Whatever_, Henry tells himself, throwing his phone to the side. Maybe he’ll kiss Vic tomorrow, just a little bit. The blond always likes that soft, sappy shit. 

An hour or so later Vic has accomplished almost none of his math work and is tempted to surf YouTube for the rest of the night. So he grabs his phone and sees several notifications across his screen. Most of them are Instagram likes, even from people who he doesn’t really like at school. Patrick has left some awful and embarrassing comment on the post with a bunch of fire emoji’s and winky faces. Vic considers deleting it, but knows Patrick will just do it again if he does.

There’s no indication of whether Henry even saw the picture at all, and Vic tries to deny his own disappointment.

And then he sees two messages from a username he doesn’t recognize.

**penny_wise_🎈:**

**nudes?**

**for $$**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so one time i wrote a really long emotional slowburn HenVic fic. And then a year later I wrote this.  
Why?  
idunno


	2. sun in the sky

### Chapter Two: sun in the sky

**penny_wise_** **🎈** **:**

**nudes?**

**for $$**

Vic stares at his phone screen for a long moment, unable to process the message. He’s never been asked for nudes before, well Patrick has asked him for nudes and Henry once sent him a drunk dick pic, but Vic doesn’t think those count. A stranger has never messaged him like this, the way creeps do to girls on Tinder. He has gotten a few weird messages before and thought nothing of blocking the username.

But no one has ever offered him money.

The user is still online, waiting for a response despite Vic’s silence. With mild trepidation, he begins typing out a message, deletes it, and then reconsiders.

**how much?**

As soon as the text bubble appears in the chat, the teen throws his phone down on the bed in mortification. Why the fuck is he talking to some pervert on the internet? He’s not really going to do it. And then his phone vibrates with a new message.

**$100 **

_Oh, that changes things. _Suddenly Vic doesn’t feels so ambivalent about talking to a pervert online. Still, he doesn’t really like the idea of sending naked pictures (while he’s underage, by the way) from his own Instagram account. What if this is someone from school pranking him? Or what if it’s Patrick trying to con him into sending nudes, which seems very possible now that Vic’s thinking about it.

But still, a hundred bucks buys a lot of cigarettes and Lush bath bombs.

Vic minimizes the app to go to his Venmo account, which he mostly uses for paying Belch gas money, and copies his account link. He pastes the link into the test conversation.

**venmo.vic_not_victor//**

**pay me first**

Well if this is a prank then he’s called their bluff and they’re definitely not going to pay. And Patrick definitely doesn't have that much money, he spends it all on hair spray and glue to huff. But then Vic gets a notification from Venmo right away, telling him that he’s just received money from a anonymous user, and then a message follows it.

**now **

Vic doesn’t really like being told what to do, especially from some random creep, but he’s still so surprised to see the money appear. He could just block the guy now, keep the money and refuse to refund it. But now this idea has been swimming around in his head, thinking about posing naked and sending pictures, and it’s making his heart pulse with excitement. The anxiety burning in his gut is now turning to curiosity, and he wonders how it would feel to do it. _Just this one time of course_, he thinks. _And I already took the money. _

**K**

**but I’m keeping my underwear on**

Vic thinks that’s fair. He doesn’t know this person, so he doesn’t just want to show his dick right away. This might piss off the guy though, or he could demands his money back. New messages appear quickly.

**fine**

**front and back.**

_Oh, _Vic thinks as he gets off his bed, _I guess I’m doing this. _It’s kind of a surreal feeling, nerves and adrenalin mounting as he strips off his jeans and sweatshirt. With a critical look in his mirror, he decides to shuck his boxers as well and digs into the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out a pair of tight black briefs. They’re more like booty shorts if Vic’s being honest, but he has a few pairs because he thinks they make his ass look good. 

The shorts ride low on him, emphasizing the curve of his hips and the v of his groin. From behind it makes his perky ass look thicker, tight around his cheeks like they are bursting out of the fabric, and the underwear creeps up to show some of his bare ass. His thighs are thinner and pale, but if he presses them together they look a bit more voluptuous.

Climbing back onto the bed, Vic checks his phone again, still nervously anticipating this to be a prank. But the user is still online, waiting for the teenager to respond, and the money is still in his account.

_Okay, I can do this. _

It feels incredibly awkward to try and take selfies of his mostly-naked body. He sits on his bed and holds the camera up above, trying to get his face out of the photos. After a few pics he scrolls through them and thinks they look too weird and not sexy. His chest is too thin and his ribs are slightly visible, and all his skin just looks so pasty white.

This time he gets up more on his knees, spreading them more and angling the camera down. He just realizes that he can just crop his head out of the picture, and that makes it easier to hold his phone without having to keep it away from his face.

Something about posing is starting to affect him, warmth spreading up his skin and making his dick perk up a little bit. He thinks about sending pictures like this to Henry, making the other boy want to come over and _touch him._

This makes him a little bolder, sliding his free hand to the band of his shorts and hooking his thumb in the elastic, pulling it down just a little bit. He doesn’t have very much pubic hair, and what he has is dark like his natural hair color, but a little strip of fuzz is revealed to the camera, drawing attention right to his crotch.

When he scrolls through these pictures, they look a lot better. His facial expressions are pretty awkward, but that doesn’t really matter. He finds the best one and crops it down to just his body, and then turns to get the other picture.

It seems much harder to get a decent picture of his own ass, so he settles for lying on his side and throwing one leg over the other, reaching back to get the picture from above. He arches his back as much as he can, feeling cramps already forming in his spine and shoulder. He can’t really see the selfie screen from this angle, so he has to just take a bunch of pics and hope they’re not too blurry.

This time when he thumbs through his camera roll, Vic can’t stop blushing. Something about these shorts and the pose makes his ass look _amazing. _Even his thighs look pretty supple. He almost considers sending a pic to Henry, because he’s sure this would make his best friend go insane with lust.

This is the kind of picture Vic could send him with the message _come over and fuck me _and Henry would be at his bedroom window in record time. Or, it could send Henry into full gay panic and break the very fragile trust they’ve built over the years.

So instead Vic opens his Instagram and clicks back into the chat. The person on the other end is still waiting patiently online but hasn’t sent any new messages. Vic finds the best of both sets of pictures and looks them over one more time, just to make sure his face is completely hidden and nothing is showing in the background. 

_This is it, _and he sends the pictures.

They load into the chat agonizingly slowly and when they finally appear Vic immediately feels his anxiety swell. What if they’re not good enough? What if this guy doesn’t like his body?

A message follows promptly.

**thanks**

Well that’s a little anticlimactic, and awkwardly polite. Vic wishes the chat would tell him if the pictures got saved by the other person, like it does on Snapchat. But he must have liked them, right?

And two more messages appear.

**when u want to get naked, msg me**

**more $$**

Vic breathes a tense sigh a relief, realizing how easy that was. And now he has a hundred bucks for taking a few pictures. And maybe more money to come as he sends one last message.

**K**

A couple weeks pass as they usually would. Vic hangs out with his friends, starts drama at school, and gives Henry blowjobs. It’s not terrible, he enjoys doing all those things, but suddenly it’s not satisfying.

So he starts taking more pictures, without being asked for them. He takes some selfies with his shorts on, bending over, spreading his legs, touching himself through the fabric. But he doesn’t send them to anyone, not yet. The pics come out good, so good that Vic gets shivers of excitement every time he looks at them. None show his face, but sometimes he shows a hint of his lips, like when they’re bruised from sucking dick, or a bit of blond hair from behind.

And maybe he’s started experimenting with being naked on camera. It starts with the tip of his cock peeking out of his underwear, looking pink and cute between his pale thighs. He shows his ass next, the curve from the side, and then bending over, and then spreading his legs apart.

Soon he realizes that he either needs to start bleaching his pubic hair (ouch) or shaving. One trip to Lush with his sister later, he’s sitting in a lavender scented bath and shaving all the way up to his asshole. By the time he’s done the water has gotten cold, but it’s worth the effort to be this smooth all over. The selfies he takes that night are the best so far.

He shaves every few days because he hates the itch of stubble, and then lathers on expensive lotion to prevent razor burn. It doesn’t take long for Henry to find out about his new routine. 

“What the fuck?” Henry says pulling his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s one of the few time that he actually offers to get Vic off after a blowjob, shoving his hand down the blond’s pants to jerk his cock and feeling all that warm, bare skin.

Vic is straddling his thigh, trying to grind on it while also hump against Henry’s hand. He hadn’t thought about being shaved around Henry, but as soon as he feels that touch his skin lights up with pleasure. It’s so much better that like this, his nerves extra sensitive even before Henry really starts touching him.

And even though Henry seems shocked and disgusted, his hand drifts back to Vic’s groin, touching him curiously along the base.

“I was bored,” Vic says softly, skin tingling wherever Henry’s touch moves. He lays his cheek on the other teen’s shoulder, whining softly and grinding, and says “It feels good.”

Henry hums a noise in response, not really listening anymore as he wraps his hand around Vic’s dick and _finally _jerks him off. It doesn’t take very much for Vic to cum, already keyed up and shaking, and as he finishes Henry doesn’t immediately push him away.

Instead they end up lying back on Vic’s bed, limbs tangles up in each other and Henry still touching him. Vic whimpers in discomfort, squirming until Henry finally lets go of his soft dick. But then their eyes meet and the haze hasn’t lifted, like they are at the center of the universe and just slowly drifting together.

When they kiss Vic wishes it didn’t feel his heart bursting from his chest, but it does. It’s like every shitty RomCom he’s ever seen, like fireworks are going off and sparks are igniting under his skin. They make out lazily, Henry sliding his tongue into his mouth and biting softly at his bottom lip. Vic is perfectly happy to suck on his tongue, taking everything Henry is willing to give him.

Then Henry’s phone buzzes and it’s over, like they had been doused with cold water and woken up from their fever dream.

“I hav’ta go,” Henry says after checking his phone, zipping up his pants getting off the bed.

“Okay,” Vic says softly, trying to prepare for the crash of loneliness that comes when his best friend leaves.

But Henry lingers for a moment, standing beside the bed and shuffling his feet idly.

Vic sits up a bit, waiting to see if he will say something else, but the other boy stays silent.

“Text me?” Vic asks, as he always does when Henry goes home.

“Yeah,” Henry says, but he stays in place like he wants to say something else. A few seconds pass and they just stare at each other, on the edge of _something_ but not taking the plunge. “Yeah,” Henry repeats awkwardly, before ducking his head down and grabbing his backpack.

He’s gone a moment later, and Vic is left wondering what could have happened if he didn’t.

Insecurity heavy in his chest, the teenager picks up his phone and opens the old Instagram chat.

**u want some new pics?**

Five minutes later, he has two hundred dollars sitting in his Venmo.

Then Vic has an idea. He’s seen those Instagram and Snapchat accounts where sexy, faceless girls and guys sell their nudes. Some of them are probably bot accounts, selling porn pictures from Russia or something like that. But some must be real, so there’s no reason why he can’t do that too.

Vic quickly logs out of his Instagram and starts a new account, skipping through all the set-up steps he already knows and not letting the app access his contacts or location. Next he uploads a few of the partially dressed pictures he has.

Some of him in only booty-shorts, a couple cute ones in this big grey hoodie that just barely covers his crotch, and others of him in a loose, sweaty t-shirt and tight underwear. He tags the pictures a couple common hashtags he’s seen on these accounts, stuff like #nudes and #payme and #twink and #thot. Stuff that would get some traffic to his page.

His face is cropped out of all the pictures, and his profile he pics is that really great picture of his ass from a few weeks ago.

Then he pulls up Snapchat, learning that it’s the more common way to send nudes online, and starts a new account as well. Finally he makes a new Venmo user name, and Vic is pretty proud of what he’s made. He drops a link to both accounts into his Insta bio, labeled with _Message me here: _and _Pay me here:_

Switching back to his original Instagram and opens the chat and pastes in a link.

**hmu on here from now on**

**Instagram.🌠⭐lonely_boy⭐🌠//**

The person on the other end doesn’t respond, but Vic gets a notification that his new account has gotten it’s first follower. The first of many by the end of the week.

A few days later Henry is lying in his bed surfing his phone in the dark, woken by his frequent nightmares and unable to fall back asleep. It doesn’t help that this old house creeks and settles eerily throughout the night, making him believe that_ someone_ is walking through the house, coming towards him.

So he uses the internet to distract himself, scrolling through Instagram for some good beat-off material. If he can just exhaust himself enough then he might be able to sleep before the sun rises. There’s a couple slutty girl accounts he looks at, trying to imagine touching their breasts or asses, but not getting any excitement out of it. The dissatisfaction makes him resent the women in the pictures, hating them for being _fake. _

_It’s not the enough,_ he thinks. _It’s not the same as…_

But he stops himself before he starts thinking about a certain pretty blond that he can’t stay away from. No matter what he does, he always wishes he was touching Vic instead of some hot girl. Plus, thinking about his best friend always makes him cum so hard that he sees stars.

He hates himself for it, for being a _dirty fucking faggot, _but he can’t stop.

So he goes through Instagram looking for something different. He’s seen some twink accounts before, slutty gay guys posting pictures and selling nudes. Henry has never bought any, can’t with how dirt poor he is, and he won’t follow any of the accounts. But sometimes he just likes to look.

_It’s not real, _he tells himself. _It doesn’t matter, it’s all fake. _

As he scrolls through pics he’s searching for the right mix of pale and slender, with a nice ass and curvy hips. Maybe a flash of some unnatural bleach blond as well. He doesn’t find it, but his imagination can make up the rest.

On one post of a guy in a jockstrap, there’s a tag in the description that catches Henry’s attention.

_#thot_

That sounds like one of those stupid trendy words Vic uses, especially when he’s cussing some stupid bitch out at school. Vic does always like to start drama, while Henry prefers just to get in fights or not show up at all.

But out of curiosity he clicks on the tag, following it to a bunch of random pics. Most of them are the same kind of selfies as he’s seen, some naked and some almost naked, but there are girls and guys. He scrolls through the tag, bored by the female bodies and not drawn in by the males either.

And then there’s one. _The one. _

It’s a selfie of a boy in his bed, lying on his side and wearing just a pair of tight black shorts. The dip of his lower back leads into the perky swell of his ass, and there's the slight bulge of his cock lying in the cut of his hip. The rest of his skin is pale and glowing under the light, begging to be touched and marked and bitten.

Henry is suddenly so hard that his dick hurts. He paws at his crotch lazily, seeking pleasure but trying to make it last.

He taps on the profile pic, which is just a great picture of that ass, and the account opens. There are only twenty followers and a dozen pictures posted, so this must be a new account. The bio has a Snapchat link and a Venmo link under same name, so this guy is definitely selling nudes.

And fuck, if Henry had the money…

But the pictures posted to the page are almost as good, even with clothes on. The guy in the pics is cute, slim and pale and young looking. Henry would bet anything that this kid isn’t eighteen, but he doesn’t really care.

One pic is from the waist up, shirtless and showing of those cute pink nipples and flawless neck. Henry just wants to mark up all that pretty skin so bad. Most of the kid’s face isn’t in the picture, cut off just above his mouth and showing his plump lower lip bitten between his teeth. And then Henry notices the smallest hint of blond locks peeking out from behind his pierced ears, and he can’t hold back.

He cums hard enough to see glittering specks along his vision, shining bright with pleasure and evaporating as he comes down.

Chest heaving for breath after an earth-shaking, almost untouched orgasm, Henry kicks of his sweatpants and wipes away all the cum with them. He flops back into bed in exhaustion, finally able to get some rest.

Though before he can fall asleep he goes back to Instagram. He won’t follow the account for obvious reasons, but he takes a screenshot so he doesn’t forget the name.

**🌠⭐lonely_boy⭐🌠**

His last though before his eyes close is how that seems kind of familiar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops i wrote another one.  
comment i guess (please) if you want


	3. reeds drifting on by

### Chapter Three: reeds drifting on by

Every Friday night the gang hangs out together, usually out causing trouble all night and then crashing at someone’s house with weed or alcohol. They typically also ditch the end of school as well, so by fifth period Vic’s not surprised when he gets a message in their group chat.

henry.bowers: meet behind the gym 10 mins

vic_not_victor: whats the magic word?

henry.bowers: now

vic_not_victor: ☹

henry.bowers: please

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: ooooooooooooo 😝💦

henry.bowers: shut the fuck up

Belch.the.car.guy: what do u guys wanna do tonight?

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

vic_not_victor: Patrick stop meming

vic_not_victor: and no more fire last time u almost burned my eyebrows off

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: no one cares about yr poor sexy Instagram girl eyebrows, henrys too busy looking at your 🍑 anyways 

vic_not_victor: 🖕

henry.bowers: fucking shut up pat or im gonna fuckin kill you

_PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR has changed vic_not_victor’s name to vic_is_thicc_

_PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR has changed henry.bower’s name to henry.“no.homo”.bowers_

henry.“no.homo”.bowers: wat the fuck

Belch.the.car.guy: guys knock it off the teacher’s gonna take my phone if it keeps going off

vic_is_thicc: pat it’s not my fault u look like a fucking grease rat cause u never take a shower

henry.“no.homo”.bowers: how do i change my name on this stupid thing

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: lolllllllllllllllllllllllll

vic_is_thicc: i hope ur oily fuckin hair catches on fire and u die

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: lol same

Belch.the.car.guy: guys stop it

vic_is_thicc: sorry mom

Belch.the.car.guy: nO

_vic_is_thicc has changed Belch.the.car.guy’s name to Mom_

vic_is_thicc: yES

PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR: yea sorry mom

Mom: omg stop

henry.“no.homo”.bowers: mom how do i change my name back

Mom: 😑 yall are fuckin grounded

_PaTrIcK-cOcKsUcKeR has changed his name to Daddy_

vic_is_thicc: absolutely not

_vic_is_thicc has changed Daddy’s name to stop_it_patrick_

stop_it_patrick: sToP KiNk sHaMiNg mE

vic_is_thicc: KINK SHAMING IS MY KINK

Mom: *scream*

henry.“no.homo”.bowers: i fuckin hat u guys

stop_it_patrick: hat

vic_is_thicc: hat

Mom: hat

henry.“no.homo”.bowers: ur all dead to me

_vic_is_thicc has changed henry.“no.homo”.bowers’s name to ❤henry.bowers❤_

❤henry.bowers❤: no

vic_is_thicc: yes

❤henry.bowers❤: whatever

stop_it_patrick: gahhyyyyyyyy

_vic_is_thicc removed stop_it_patrick from the group_

Mom: guys

Mom: can we not

vic_is_thicc: fine

_vic_is_thicc added stop_it_patrick to the group_

stop_it_patrick: i am hurt and offended

❤henry.bowers❤: good

Mom: r we ever gonna decide on what we’re doing tonight?

vic_is_thicc: can we just get high and watch movies? i’ll buy

❤henry.bowers❤: yeah sure

Mom: my place? We can get pizza

stop_it_patrick: fine but vic has to call me daddy all night

vic_is_thicc: no i will not

stop_it_patrick: once?

vic_is_thicc: never

vic_is_thicc: i’m walking to the gym now, u guys there yet?

❤henry.bowers❤: yea

Mom: omw

Vic puts away his phone as he rounds the corner of the building, lighting up a cigarette as he looks around for his friends. He doesn’t notice the ominous presence behind him until sharp fingers are digging into his ribs.

“Hey Vicky,” a voice says, right by his ear and making him jolt.

Instinctively Vic jabs his elbow back and turns to see Patrick doubled over and clutching his ribs.

“Oh, fuck…” Patrick mumbles, catching his breath and rubbing his side still. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Don’t fucking touch me Hockstetter,” Vic spits back, putting a bit of distance between them. “And quit sneaking up on me!”

“But you always fall for it,” Patrick wheezes with laughter.

Vic chooses to ignore him, looking up to finally spot Henry at the edge of the parking lot, leaning against the chain link fence and eyes fixed on his phone. Which is weird, at least Vic thinks so, because Henry doesn’t really use his shitty phone that often and the only people that text him regularly are the gang. So _what _could he be looking at so intensely?

Henry’s done something he’s not proud of. He would deny it if he could, and if anyone found out he might have to kill them. For the last few days he’s been stalking this guy’s Instagram, the same one from before, even though he can’t follow him on his regular account.

A new picture appears every night, in different poses with less clothes and sometimes snippets of video from Snapchat. There’s one video, just a few seconds long of the faceless boy grinding against his pillow, ass arched up and shorts riding up his cheeks. And then right at the end, the boy makes this breathy little moan as the video cuts off, and that noise might be the sexiest thing Henry has ever heard.

So Henry went on to Snapchat and made a new account, even though it was really difficult for him to figure out because Vic usually sets up his social media accounts. But he was finally able to figure it out, making a throw-away account to follow **🌠⭐**lonely_boy**⭐🌠**.

The guy posts to his story every day, usually just short videos like the one on Instagram, or slowly stripping until he’s just in tight briefs, and one amazing video of him shoving his fingers in his mouth until he chokes. The clips are too short to be satisfying, usually cutting off right before the best part, but Henry watches them over and over throughout the day.

The banner across the video shows the prices for nudes and other requests, but even if Henry could afford to, he wouldn’t know how to ask. So he just watches the little bit he can get, and still tells himself that he’s straight. That this _doesn’t count._

By Friday afternoon he’s waiting by the gym for his friends, itching for a cigarette but he doesn’t have one. Vic always has a pack sitting in his back pocket, and how he gets away with it at school Henry will never know. So while he waits Henry opens Snapchat, just to check for an update. There is none, but he rewatches the one from this morning, where that pretty pale boy is lying in bed, blowing kisses at the camera and playing with his nipples.

It’s really difficult for Henry not to get hard in the back lot of the school. At least he’s alone.

“Hey Henry!” Patrick yells from just a few feet away, making the other teen jump and stumble against the chain fence.

“What the fuck asshole!” Henry says, clutching his phone to his chest and shoving Patrick back when he gets too close.

Vic appears by his side, rolling his eyes and intuitively offering his half-burnt cigarette. Henry takes it and finishes it in a few quick puffs, that anxious buzzing under his skin settling for a moment, but then he notices how Vic is trying to peek at his phone screen.

“What?” Henry asks defensively, shoving it in his pocket.

“Who ar- What were you looking at?” the blond says quietly, trying to keep Patrick from hearing him.

“Nothing.” Henry looks away as he stubs out the cigarette, relieved to see Belch’s trans am pulling up. “Come on.”

As they climb into the car Vic knows that he should just drop it, that Henry was probably just watching some stupid YouTube video about hot knives cutting things or something. Honestly, who would he be texting anyway? Despite his reasoning, Vic thinks about it for a very long time.

Hours later they are lounging around in Belch’s basement, watching the remake of _The Texas Chain Saw Massacre _and shoving pizza in their mouths. The smell of weed is heavy in the room, making the air hazy and sweet as they pass around hastily rolled joints and try to keep the lighter away from Patrick.

“I’m always a slut for cinnasticks,” Vic says out of the blue, licking frosting off his fingers.

“You’re a slut for everything,” Patrick says, lying across the floor with his shirt off, because off course, and hyperfixated on the movie.

Vic just hums vaguely, not caring to deny it as he shoves another sugared breadstick in his mouth, and Belch laughs along from his comfortable slouch in the reclining chair.

Henry isn’t laughing though, he’s sitting at the other side of the couch and staring intently at Vic as he takes another drag off the joint. He blows the smoke towards the ceiling and his blue eyes are so dark and dilated that Vic gets lost looking into them.

Vic must be really, really high to be thinking such sappy shit.

“Where’d you get all that money?” Henry mumbles, voice rough with smoke as he shifts closer to him.

The weed Vic bought was some of the best stuff a bunch of teenagers could get in a small town, sold from the backroom of the hardware store by the owner’s nephew. A bag this full would last the boys a couple weeks, and had cost Vic a good chunk of money.

“Um- My mom gave me guilt money again,” He lies hastily, skin crawling with paranoia. Weed always makes him feel too floaty, like he’s falling upwards, and he gets paranoid, overthinking stupid things like this. Every couple months his mom gives him and his sisters extra allowance to make up for never being home, and then she goes out that night and doesn’t come home for three days anyway. But she never gave him as much money as he’s made online.

Henry blinks at him blankly, not really thinking about it as he accepts the answer, and then moves closer to Vic to pass the joint to him. The two teens finish it easily, stubbing out the little stump remaining onto the stained coffee table.

The movie plays in the background, some lady screaming as she’s chased through the house, and the revving of a chainsaw following behind her. Vic gets bored of it pretty quickly, so he lays back on the couch and lets his mind drift. Henry shifts uncomfortably beside him, not watching the movie either as his eyes crawl lazily up the blond’s body. His t-shirt has ridden up his stomach a bit, and his pants are sagging down enough to show the band of some tight camo briefs he recently bought online. Vic doesn’t really care to cover them up, can’t really think of why he should, and he likes the way that Henry can’t look away from his hips. 

Their eyes meet and Henry leans closer and Vic spreads his legs invitingly, because he always kind of knows what Henry wants, even if Henry won’t say it aloud. They end up sprawled across the couch, Henry lying with his cheek on the other boy’s chest and idly touching the soft bare skin of his abdomen, while Vic plays with his hair and rakes his filed nails across his scalp.

Despite the all the repressed sexual tension between them, Vic kind of likes this more than blowjobs and dry humping. Henry really isn’t a cuddler, or at least he pretends not to be, except when he’s high or drunk or sleepy enough to be pliant. He’s so warm and heavy on top of the blond, making him feel grounded while Vic drifts through his high, loving every bit of their skin touching together.

Distantly Vic feels his phone buzz from his pocket, and it takes some serious focus for him to dig it out from under Henry to look at the notification. It’s a request from his Snapchat and a pending payment to his Venmo, and when he opens the app it’s one of his regular customers, the one who orders pictures of his feet.

He anxiously looks down at Henry, who is dozing against his stomach, and then to his other friends. Belch is packing a new bowl into a glass pipe, and Patrick won’t take his eyes off the movie for a second. Vic has some extra pictures saved on his phone, because he usually takes a lot when he has nights alone. So he selects a few of him kneeling in his short shorts, with his feet tucked under his hips, making them look small and pink beside his pale skin.

The images send over Snapchat swiftly, and almost immediately it shows that they’ve been screenshotted. A notification tells him that the pending payment in his Venmo has gone through, and he smirks to see the $150 dollars appear in his account.

“What?” Henry says suddenly, leaning up slightly to peek at Vic’s phone. 

“Huh?” the blond says, startled as he quickly closes his apps.

“What are you looking at?” he asks, crawling further up across Vic’s chest to see.

“Just ah- Gretta’s starting shit on twitter again,” Vic lies, not very convincingly based on how Henry’s looking at him. Thinking quickly, he shifts his hips under Henry and rubs his thigh across his crotch.

Henry doesn’t say anything in response, but his eyes darken as Vic grinds their hips together. He moves closer, framing his slight shoulders and pressing his hips down, so Vic can feel the hard bulge of his cock through their jeans. Vic shudders and bites his lip, squirming under the larger teen, as his phone slips to the floor.

And then Henry reaches up and brushes his fingers across Vic’s bottom lip, feeling the shallow grooves where his teeth have dug in. His rough, callused fingers run over the plush skin, sliding into his mouth and feeling along the ridge of his teeth.

Vic feels weightless, like he’s defusing into the air, and it’s not because of the marijuana. He lets Henry touch him, pet over his tongue and slide two fingers to the back of his throat. It feels more intimate than anything else they’ve ever done, like Henry can reach all the way inside him and feel his heart thudding in his chest. The fingertips reach his throat, and then press deeper, and no matter how Vic tries to repress his gag reflex, he can’t help but choke a whine.

That sound makes Henry buck his hips, rubbing his dick into Vic’s thigh, and drool is already running down his hand.

“Are you guys gon’na fuck or not?” Patrick asks loudly from the floor, hair disarray and full of carpet lint.

“Be quite guys, my mom’s upstairs,” Belch reminds them, not really caring that Henry’s got half his hand in Vic’s mouth.

The boys jump back, Vic coughing as his throat spasms, and Henry almost falling to the floor as he scrambles away.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Henry says, but it lacks the any real threat or anger. His cheeks are flushed bright red as he settles back on the other end of the couch.

Vic sits up slowly, brain still foggy about what just happened, and if they really were going to fuck right then. It sure felt like they would, or felt like they would do _something. _But he gets distracted too easily buy how cute Henry looks when he’s embarrassed, all red faced and pouty, and the blond starts giggling.

“What’s your problem?” Henry mumbles, trying to stay mad but too high to really care.

“Nothing,” Vic says softly, and then moves closer and lays his cheeks on the other teen’s shoulder.

Henry lets him, even leaning closer as they watch the movie, and neither even look at their phones.

A little after midnight Henry decides that he wants to go home, and that really means that he wants to go home with Vic. The blond teenager has been dozing off, his legs spread and draped over the armrest, and he wakes up to Henry tugging on his belt loop.

“Right now?” Vic asks sleepily, kind of wishing they could just sleep in the basement tonight.

“Yeah,” Henry says and pulls him to his feet.

Patrick left a while ago, as he often does to do who-knows-what in the middle of the night.

“You guys need a ride?” Belch asks, also half-asleep in the recliner. Their joints had burnt out hours ago, but the smell of weed is still heavy in the air, and they all still feel a little high.

“No- It’s okay,” Vic says, rubbing his eyes and swaying on his feet. The last thing they need is to get pulled over driving high, Belch could lose his license and Henry’s dad would find out. 

He and Henry sneak out of Belch’s house as quietly as they can, slipping out through the back door and walking down the back streets to Vic’s house. The night air is crisp and wakes them both up more, and the only noise is their steps on the sidewalk. Henry is fidgeting like he wants something, and with the way he hooks his fingers into the waist of Vic’s jeans, it’s pretty clear what it is. Vic, coming down from his high, feels a thrill run up his spine.

It’s pretty easy for to get into Vic’s bedroom late at night, Henry does it at least once a week, so they tumble in through the window and onto the bed. The room is completely dark as they fumble around, struggling to get some of their clothes off without untangling from each other.

Once Vic gets his sweatshirt off and Henry throws off his flannel they twist around each other like they can’t stay apart. They grind against each other for a minute, really enjoying the rough friction of their jeans before it gets uncomfortable, and usually this is when Vic gets on his knees and lets his mouth get fucked. But Henry keeps grinding on him, not letting the other boy off the bed, and feeling up his inner thighs like he can’t stop touching them.

“H-Henry,” Vic whimpers when he squeezes the curve of his ass, leaving the shadow of his fingers on his pale skin. 

For a second he thinks that Henry might kiss him, with the way they’re pressed together, Henry touching him like this and eyes so eager for more. Vic will take anything he can get, but more than anything he wants Henry to kiss him like they are the only two people in the world.

Instead the teen leans in and says “Turn over.”

Vic twists onto his front so fast that he gets dizzy, and he kicks off his jeans as Henry pulls at them. He’s wearing a new pair of briefs today, the tight camo pair he took a few selfies in, and Henry snaps the elastic band against his hip. He hears a belt clink open and his skin lights up when he feels the hot flesh of Henry’s hard dick rutting against his thigh.

“Like, push your legs together,” Henry mumbles, grabbing Vic’s hips to make his back arch. “C’mon, yeah.”

Vic squeezes his inner thighs together and leans back, presenting his ass like a bitch in heat, and precum is staining his shorts as Henry’s cock slides between his thighs. Henry is leaning over him, forehead on his shoulder as he breathes heavily, and he spits into his palm to rub across his shaft.

It’s sweaty and slick and kind of chafes, but _damn _does it feel good. Vic’s skin is so soft and smooth, completely shaved and so hot, and when he squeezes his thigh muscles together Henry feels his orgasm already burning in his veins. Mindlessly he leans in and drags his teeth over Vic’s neck, finding a nice soft spot to suck and bite on as he humps against him.

Vic is squirming against the mattress, getting one hand under himself to fist his own dick. Every time Henry thrusts forward the head of his cock it rubs against his taint, and then there are those hands traveling across his ass. His head is fuzzy with pleasure, groaning as Henry bites at his neck until the skin breaks, and then his tongue swipes over the little bit of blood there. Nails dig into his ass cheek and leave red marks down his skin, and then Henry slaps him right there and Vic cums with a whimper.

After he comes down, he lets Henry keep humping against him until he’s finished, and streaks of tacky cum stick to his thighs. The other teenager falls limp on top of him, feeling heavy and shaking with exhaustion.

“Fuck…” Henry mumbles into his shoulder, too blissed out to get off of Vic.

The blond squirms to get more comfortable, letting Henry slide his arms around his waist and lie across his back, and then Vic touches the pulsing ache on his neck. The wound is tender but shallow, and only seeping a few drops of blood, but it’ll be purple and swollen by tomorrow.

“You gave me a hickey asshole,” Vic says, but the venom in his words is dulled by content fatigue.

“You fucking like it,” Henry accuses, and the other teen can’t really argue.

Henry’s definitely bit him before, gave him dark red marks on his chest and nipples, nasty tooth bruises on his inner thighs, but never in such a visible place. And damn it, Vic isn’t going to be the guy wearing a turtleneck in the middle of April, so people are definitely going to see it. And they’ll probably now who gave it to him.

Vic twists over onto his back, happy to let Henry cuddle with him post-orgasm. They probably could fall asleep like this, wake up sticky with cum and needing a shower, and what could happen in there…

But then Henry shifts, his shoulders going stiff and taut, and he puts a uncomfortable distance between them, like he’s just realized what he was doing.

“I um- I should,” he says, voice rough and hesitant as he sits up on his knees.”

“Go?” Vic leans up, wanting to pull Henry back down, and he notices how the other boy is avoiding eye contact.

Henry nods awkwardly, but makes no move to get off the bed.

_Don’t, _Vic wants to say. But he doesn’t, because he’s afraid that if he asks Henry to stay that he’ll leave anyway.

“Okay,” he says, so quiet that Henry might not hear him as he grabs his backpack and leaves in a hurry.

Collapsing back onto his bed Vic watches Henry leave out the window, and then feels miserably alone. He fights off the urge to cry, blaming it on the weed still burning through his system, and tries to distract himself. Kicking the blankets into a heap on the end of the bed, Vic finds his phone tangled in them, and then finds Henry’s flannel lying across his sheets. Obviously Henry forgot it and he twists his fingers up in the fabric. He’ll wear it for a couple days, pretending that Henry left it for him on purpose, until the teen finally demands it back.

He unlocks his phone to find a bunch of notifications on his Snapchat and Instagram, requests for new pics and videos. He really should take a shower first, but then he sees the strings of cum still on his thighs and has an idea.

Henry wakes up around dawn, his night restless as he tossed and turned through it. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he grabs his phone from the charger, he swipes through the group chat that Patrick flooded with memes last night, and then opens his new Snapchat. He only follows one person on it, and gets a little more awake to see that he’s posted a new story last night. His dick perks up a little as it loads, body thrumming with anticipation.

It’s a short video that plays on repeat, the guy sitting on a bed and holding the camera out above him. The image pans down from his neck, showing a big red mark on his jugular, down his chest and to the cut of his hips, wearing tight camo briefs. And then showing streaks of pearly white cum across his supple thighs, and the front of his shorts wet with more.

Henry’s brain stalls for a moment, to overcome as all his blood rushes towards his cock and he gets hard so fast that his vision gets blurry. He imagines putting his hands on that skin, putting his teeth on that neck_ and making Vic whine as he bites down-_

And then somehow his sleepy and horny brain are able to put the pieces together.

_No way. _

Right before the video cuts out, he sees a flash of navy plaid fabric in the corner, bundled up on the bed beside the faceless boy. And he suddenly remembers the flannel shirt he was wearing yesterday, the one Vic likes to _“borrow”_ sometimes and where to school.

The video plays again and Henry finally notices the banner tag at the top of the screen.

_missing you…_ _@venmo.lonely_boy//_

“No fucking way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this sat on my computer for a while and i just saw it 2 so i thought i should finally post it


	4. it's a new dawn

### Chapter Four: it’s a new dawn 

Vic wakes up to someone aggressively knocking on the back door. His room is close enough that he can hear the impatient pounding and rolls out of bed, vision blurry and hair a mess as he walks through the kitchen and toward the sound. _ It’s way too early for this shit, _he thinks to himself, even though he forgot to grab his phone off the nightstand to see what time it is. 

Another hard slam against the door rattles the walls around it, and Vic has to wonder _ whom the fuck _ has the right to make this much noise on a Saturday morning. The only people that use the backdoor are his sisters, himself, and his friends. His sisters all have keys, so unless one of them got locked out at this hour, it must be one of his friends. Vic didn’t hear the loud rumble of Belch’s car outside, and Patrick is usually asleep from dawn until the afternoon, so that leaves Henry.

But Henry usually climbs in through Vic’s window, especially if he needs a place to sleep or a blowjob. 

He unlatches the back door and it swings open, revealing a very disheveled Henry, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed and sprinted through the woods.

“Hey-” Vic begins to say.

“What the fuck is this!?!” Henry cuts him off, voice edged with panic as he shoves his phone into Vic’s face. 

The blond is startled back a few paces, eyes still blurry and scared by Henry’s outburst. His hand is shaking slightly, the cracked phone screen glimmering in the early morning light, but slowly Vic can make out the Snapchat logo, and then a familiar video playing on repeat. Vic feels his heart drop into his stomach, a sudden rush of fear that sends his blood rushing and makes his throat tight. There’s a prickling burn in his eyes and Vic wonders if he’s about to cry, just from the shock and humiliation, and then he sees Henry, still shaking and panicked, and Vic realizes something.

“You follow me?”

Henry stalls, still holding his phone but frozen in place. Words die on his tongue in a stuttered mess of denials, and then he falls silent when Vic leans closer.

“Henry…” he says softly, almost to himself, as he slowly reaches up and cups Henry’s face in his hands. He has to stand on his tiptoes, because the other boy isn’t leaning down for him, and he presses their lips together. The kiss feels to sweet for them, without any of the vicious _ want _ they usually have, but it’s just gentle and warm and somehow _ perfect. _

After a moment Henry finally responds, eyes drifting closed as his arms slide around Vic’s waist. His phone clatters to the ground but neither boy seems to notice, especially when their tongues slide together and they start stumbling back into the house. 

Vic doesn’t care, or even realize, that the back door is left wide open, or that it’s 8 a.m. on a Saturday and his family is probably home, because Henry’s hands are under his shirt and touching the bare skin of his lower back. Without breaking away Vic steers them to his bedroom, even though Henry keeps trying to press him against the wall. But they stumble into his bedroom and fall into bed, rutting against each other in a slow wave. Nothing about this is hurried or frantic, but it just feels so right, like this was where they were always meant to be.

The only moment they break apart is when Vic turns to find his lotion off the bedside table, and while he does Henry gets on top of him. Vic feels teeth against his ear, pulling on his piercings before Henry ducks down to map out the cords of his neck. When his tongue finds the hickey from yesterday, now an ugly purple and still tender, he’s traces over the punctures with his tongue, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of his teeth in Vic’s skin. 

_ Damn, _ Vic can’t focus when Henry’s doing that, or when hands push his shirt up and start rubbing and twisting his nipples. The blond can barely grab what he was reaching for before dropping the bottle beside them on the bed, and then he pulls Henry’s face up for another kiss, because he can’t stand for them to be apart. 

Their shirts get thrown to the floor, sweatpants kicked off with no hesitation, and soon the teens are naked and tangled together. Henry just can’t stop touch Vic, fingers tracing his sides, and then sliding down his thighs and pushing them apart. His head is foggy, but he’s sure that he’s never felt anything as good as their skin pressed together. 

“Henry ah-,” Vic mumbles against Henry’s cheek, lips smeared with spit as they taste each other’s skin. 

The blond fumbles with lotion bottle between them, because the only thing that he can think of is how Henry needs to be inside him _ right now, _and spreads enough across his fingers prep himself. He’s fingered himself before, but never with Henry’s tongue in his mouth and hands on his inner thighs, so he quickly presses two fingers into himself. It doesn’t feel great, the stretch stings but he bears it, not wanting to spare a second while Henry’s hard dick is pressed into the cut of his hip. 

On that thought, they should get on with it soon or both of them are going to bust from anticipation. So Vic pulls his fingers out to wraps his slick hand around Henry’s cock and guide it towards his hole, because apparently he’s got to take control or Henry will keep distracting him with love bites and dry humping. 

But then Henry pins Vic down to the mattress, batting his hand away to spread the blond’s legs further apart. His hand slides down to their dicks, and then further to Vic’s taint and presses the tip of his thumb into his entrance. The skin there is hairless and slick with sweat and lube, and so hot inside that Henry has a vague thought that he’ll melt as soon as he’s inside him. 

He sits up a bit on his knees, hovering over Vic as he takes his dick in hand and slides it along the crease of his ass. The wet tip catches on his hole, not quite inside but almost, and Henry can barely drag his eyes away to look at Vic. The blond is panting, eyes fluttering and overwhelmed each touch. He’s flushed from his face down to his chest, with his open lips as red and puffy as his nipples. And Henry kind of forgets what he’s doing, where he is, and probably can’t remember his own name, because Vic is just so _ pretty. _

Vic whines and squirms under him, reaching up to pull Henry closer. 

“Please- c’mon,” He whispers against Henry’s mouth, afraid that if he speaks too loud it’ll wake them from this fever dream. 

But thankfully Henry listens, dips his head down to kiss Vic as he pushes into him. It’s too tight, too much friction, and for a second Vic thinks it’s not going to happen. Then something gives and the tip pops in, and Vic feels like all the air was just punched out of him. It’s so sharp and so _ close _ and _ he can’t- _

“Hey- Vic, don’t-” Henry says like he’s scared, shoulders stiff as he’s tries to pull out. 

“No- no, please,” Vic arches up, gripping onto Henry’s shoulders and hooks his leg around his back to pull him closer. It forces that dick inside him deeper, and _ fuck _does that hurt, but he doesn’t let go. “Don’t go- Henry please.”

“You’re- fuck Vic, you’re crying,” Henry says, stressed with guilt but not pulling away again.

Vic realizes he is like it’s an afterthought, but he’s shaking and cold tears are running down his hot face. He feels so open and vulnerable, but somehow it’s okay because Henry’s there, wiping his tears away and trying to kiss him again. 

“So- so are you,” Vic says, breath hitching with a sob. 

And Henry’s eyes are red-rimmed and brimming, but Vic pulls him down before he can hide it. Their mouths meet in a wet, messy kiss, with their teeth clashing and damp skin sticking together. 

They settle after a few moments, shifting around into a more comfortable position as the sting finally eases and Vic can breathe again. Henry’s thrusting into him again, going slow as he mouths at Vic’s neck. 

“Yeah, more,” the blond says, one hand gripping Henry’s bicep and the other touching where they’re connected, rubbing his rim as he’s split open. 

Henry’s doing his best to hold himself together, but Vic is so hot and velvet soft inside. He can feel their pulses, thrumming together like they’re one person in two bodies. He’s never thought things like this, would call them faggy or stupid, but not now. Somehow Vic washes away all that anger and hurt, until he’s raw and honest. 

Plus he’s ready to bust a nut like, _ right now. _

“Can- can I move?” He asks, control slipping as he rolls his hips. 

Vic takes a breath, circling his hips and arching up when he feels a shock of pleasure rolls up his spine. 

“Yeah,” Vic says, twisting his fingers into Henry’s hair. “Fuck me.”

Neither of them hold back now. The rhythm is choppy and rough, just chasing pleasure as fast as they can. Vic keeps squirming, arching and twisting whenever Henry hits his prostate, and then stroking his own dick as he strains closer to cumming. 

Above him Henry breathes heavily as sweat rolls down his back, hips bucking roughly into that tight heat around his cock. His eyes shut and face scrunches up, chasing pleasure as the bed’s headboard rocks against the wall. Vic keeps whining and moaning, and then he’ll pull Henry down and whimper a jumbled mess of _ “so good,” _ and “ _ more, harder Henry please.” _

Henry cums like it’s being ripped out of him, all his muscles spasming, teeth grinding, and light flashing under his eyelids. Vic feels a hot rush inside him, shivvers crawling up his skin as he realizes that Henry just came inside him, and it doesn’t take much after that to cum in his own fist. 

Ten minutes or ten hours later, the boys finally feel like they can breath again. Henry is limp and heavy on top of the other teen, and his soft cock is still inside Vic. The tacky, gross feeling of cum drying on their skin is starting to itch, but Vic can’t bring himself to move. He rakes his fingers through Henry’s sweaty hair, and briefly fantasizes about getting Henry into a hot bath and washing his hair. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Vic asks, afraid that Henry will just get up and leave at any moment.

“No,” Henry says too quickly, but he doesn't try to get up.

From its place on the bedside table, Vic's phone buzzes twice as it receives a new message. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead yet

**Author's Note:**

> so one time i wrote a really long emotional slowburn HenVic fic. And then a year later I wrote this.  
Why?  
idunno


End file.
